


Skaiabound

by boychic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Homestuck - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Servantstuck AU, Skaia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychic/pseuds/boychic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four teenagers and their loyal servants set out to gain their independence as Skaia’s monarchs and free their world from the scourge of war. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m pretty shy about my writing, but uh… here goes! The Author’s note on this one says it all, really: My best friend brought up the idea of Servantstuck, and my imagination took it and ran with it. I’m officially deigning Servantstuck a group project and an AU that is going to get extensive. This is only my second attempt at serious work in recent years, so I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> For occasional update progress and some artwork in the future, check my personal Tumblr: http://theyoungcynic.tumblr.com

Gauzy curtains parted severely, sloping to lie against the base of the stepped dais the bed rested on. Lavender wafted from incense burning on mahogany nightstands at each side of the bed. The walls beyond the bed were fitted with shelves, interrupted by various black-framed paintings of Eldritch princesses: young ladies in the finest dresses, with tentacles in the place of limbs. Crystal knitting needles left at the foot of the dais, along with abandoned knitting projects scattered about the room. The lady herself sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed but not quite touching the floor with shoulders hunched, head of white-blond hair tipped over so as to obscure her face as she slips from the last tendrils of sleep. She'd taken it upon herself to awaken the girl early for a fitting of her newest garment: A gem-fitted lilac corset set with a lacy fringe of black roses and a gently flowing, silken skirt with the same trim. It was entirely bare of shoulder, but she could be trusted to choose a sensible shawl or enticing jewelry. Clearing age-blackened petals from the bed to lay down the tender bundle of fabric, the servant's lips curled into an amused smile.

"Good Morning, Lady Lalonde," she slips a diamond-speckled slipped from her sleepy charge's foot, laying a reverent kiss against the hollow of her ankle before her eyes roamed upward. Fingers spread against her calves, curling firmly against the tender flesh at the back of her leg momentarily before she moved to stand. Her ascent leaves a path of jade lipstick up to the knee, but she receives no complaint. "On Today's Agenda… Chess With Sir Strider, Penmanship, Sewing, And Then You Are Free For The Day." The first directive receives a low whine in the pale girl's throat, but not much more. Her head lifted from where it lay lulled against her shoulder, violet eyes half lidded but alert. Always alert, lucid from the time they opened to the time they were laid to sleep with a kiss to each eyelid. The young woman before her had hawk-sharp eyes and a skillfully perceptive sense of pitch. It was obvious from the way those eyes searched her face that she had caught the hesitant lilt in her voice. "Notary Has Arrived From Lolar. The Peace Proceedings Are Going Swimmingly." She offered a cloying smile and a curt bow, anything to ease her lady's discomfort.

"And, the bearer of such bittersweet news, Kanaya? Tell me."

"Sir Jaspers Again And Once Again He Tells Me He Believes It Is 'Purrfectly Pawful' That He Cannot Directly Commune With You, But As Soon As Hostilities Are Quashed Between The Kingdoms…" Her lady raises a hand to stop her with a weary sigh.

"What am I wearing today?"

 

 

 

"Checkmate."

Her posture gave away the fact that she wasn't even remotely involved in the game, if not her distracted playing. Fingers intertwined under the bridge of her nose, head angled away from the playing board entirely while she stared out the window directly beside the playing table and watched clouds drift by against the too-blue dint of the sky.

"You're letting me win again. Let me guess: Jaspers came by and left cat puns and some spiel about 'purrfectly' peaceful allegiances between the kingdoms. I don't want to be the one to cough up this hairball, but here I am choking on it. I'm turning blue over here, Lalonde. Better perform a verbal Heimlich or – hah, nope, I'm letting this roll of fuzz rest right on the carpet. Catdaddy is dead wrong, and we're going to sit here on the sidelines until we're old enough to swing our own sword." He rants as usual. She is almost sure she's heard the same mixed metaphor before, word for word. It isn't as if Dave hadn't been known to repeat himself, she mulled silently before giving him her attention.

"Ever the perceptive one, aren't you Dave? Drawing so much from my profile in admiring the sky. I was thinking nothing of the sort." She bluffed. "I'd imagine the one of the contents of this hairball is yarn or, dare I say, string cut from the puppeteer's stock? And as always, the young prospective Knight brings his sword into the mixed metaphor. Tied to phallic imagery, and no doubt your hankering fo—"He cut her off with his protests.

"What? Jesus, no, what is it with you and dicks? I know I'm a fine specimen of masculinity, but don't project your yearning for shiny metal dick and plush puppet proboscis on me. Save that for tea with Heir Egbutt. What do you guys even do? Watch birds and kiss on the cheek?" Reached out and sweeping her arm across the chessboard while he spoke. The chess pieces fell under the expanse of her arm, some spilling over the edge of the board and clattering to the floor. Neither the motion nor sound seemed to draw a real reaction from him. The black queen lay toppled in the midst of the board, and Rose plucked it up to roll betwixt her fingers before flicking it out of the window on a whim.

"Smooth transitioning, Dave. I'm sure you're actually quite looking forward to a prosaic description of the time John and I spend siphoning sugar into our respective cups of tea and shuffling around in the gardens peacefully. I'm afraid I'm sworn to secrecy on the tender details, but the crows look wonderful this time of year." She dictates languidly, with a momentary amused curl of her lips. Her companion stands, flipping his hair out of his eyes with a gentle toss of his head. The knight slips his arms back into his scarlet overcoat and inspects the scuffed face of his pocket-watch before rolling his shoulders and rounding on his heel. It is a strict, military motion that belies nothing.

"I need a shot of insulin, stat, before I fall into a sugar coma. Only the tender touch of my wizardly lover's lips could rouse me from my eternal nap. No more apple juice for me." He teases before striding swiftly through the doorway without looking back. Rose stands, pushes her chair in, and turns to the window. Outside, the ground is so far away from the peak of the impossibly high tower. From here she can see the expanse of Skaia as far as it reaches before the land ends. This is Skaia, the ruined battlefield, shorn to pieces by some ancient war. It is an entire world orbiting their home planet in shattered bits of free-floating land. A thousand checkered moons, some tenuously linked by bridges over the ages. This world's checkerboard floor, its idyllic sky, the grounds of a mazelike garden and lush hunting grounds beneath her, and for a moment it's all alien. Or more accurately, she is alien to the peaceful realm. If she closes her eyes when a breeze rolls by it is almost easy to imagine salty air and a prismatic sea.

She can almost imagine black fire and tendrils of soot singeing her cheeks and pulls the wide shutters closed.

It was unfair.

But, she harbored no desire to be cut down at the hand of some brute down on Alterra. It was a worldwide war in which people are dying in the name of imperialism, draconian dignitaries, religious conquest, glory and gold. A plague of nationalism and an assassination with the right (or, more correctly, wrong) timing set off a chain reaction of animosity. It was exactly the sort of thing that could be sparked within a precarious net of allegiances. Here, all she could do was proceed to scheduled activities as enjoined by Lolar to keep her fit and busy. It was a measure to keep all of them busy and comfortable on Skaia, confined to routine and safe from black-charred bones and burning castles. The War was something she had studied for years, since being brought to Skaia. War was all they knew, all she ever heard of bouncing on mother's knee over crystalline coffee tables and sharing secret sugar cubes with Jaspers. When it had not yet come to her shores, before it melted snows in the mountain ranges of Lofaf, bent mighty metal structures in Lohac and brought fire to Lowas, it was easy to ignore. There are many things a child need not consider, but she wasn't really a child any more, was she? The four of them had spent seven years here, and not so united. She and Sir Strider were once confined to the towers of the black castle in the far east, Heir John and Princess Jade bound to the white castle in the west. A collision of air-bound land masses brought the progeny of the world's largest and most powerful countries to know one another so well little over four years ago – on John's thirteenth birthday, no less. Said land masses showed no signs of separating, even melded together complimentarily as if they were rent for each other, matching pieces of a cosmic puzzle.

It was not as if parting were an option in any case. Interesting relationship dynamics had formed between not only the four royal (they had come to accept this as a loose term of their assembly, courtesy of John) children, but their full court of twelve. Three each from their respective countries, carefully selected to provide company and act as caretakers more or less of peer age. Careful selection being a loose approximation in some cases: All of Dave's company was functionally handicapped, and between the violent tempers and dramatic mood swings it was a wonder John's unit functioned well enough to serve him. Not that there hadn't been conflict within her three escorts, but Kanaya made an excellent medium when it came to solving issues between people. But not even she schism from forming between Eridan and Feferi. Her youngest maid had grown tired of her elder brother's overbearing nature and tendency to stalk and meddle in her affairs. She'd gone as far as to entirely break contact with him unless it was absolutely necessary. The moment he slipped into her thoughts, Eridan made his presence known as if beckoned by them by ripping into existence by way of a flash of white science. His violet cape clasped around the nape of his neck with an ornate gold clasp shaped like a pair of wings, it rippled around him when he marched singularly towards her with his hands folded behind his back. He offered a stiff approximation of a bow, unable to stem the flow of words from his mouth before he'd even stopped to do as much.

"I would glub to wwatch you stare wacantly at shutters but wwhatewer you're thinkin' about can wwait. I'll let you skip out on penmanship, but you hawe got to tell me what Fef's been up to. And don't shrimp on the details!" Hands sweeping from behind him, fingers dancing with anticipation, digitss swathed in a multitude of gaudy gold rings that clicked together noisily.

"She is still enjoying the company of one Sollux Captor, if I'd so imagine."

"I kneww it! By cod, I'm going to scallop that lispin' bottomfee—" She cut him off, with no desire to listen to another detailed description of how he would like to "ewiscerate" Sollux.

"Yes, yes, blood on the walls and what have you. I could recount every queerly specific violent murder fantasy Jade seems to have taken a shining to her, and Sunday evening she seemed quite 'ex-cit-ed' when Kanaya and I presented her with a new layered skirt. I can't help but imagine things would be so much easier for you if you laid your pride, and wand, down and actually attempted to make amends with Feferi."

"I'we told you Rose… She wwon't hawe anyfin' to do with me!" He whines, crossing his arms and tucking in his chin. He pushes his glasses up some while he thumbs at the bridge of his nose then raked a hand through his the striking violet forelock, taking a few steps forward and depositing himself in Dave's vacated seat. "But if anemone knows what to do, it's you." It was amusing to watch the wry twist of his lips and furrow of his brow as Eridan tried to work out something, anything, to say that didn't involve himself. "It must be puff not seain' your paww, eh? I guess that's pretty relatable to howw I miss Fef. Ohh, Fef." He croons.

"Jaspers is not my father. He's only a butler from my mother's estate, albeit a dear one." She enunciated carefully, sounding much like Kanaya for a moment.

"If you ask me, Jaspers is obwiously a father figure for you. The man changed your diapers and secured you a place up here in Skaia. And strictly speakin', I'm your butler."

"I don't believe you were ever asked, and, If we're going by that title, I've never met a worse butler. You never cook, you never clean, and you never actually escort me to my appointments because you are content to wring the latest gossip from me like I'm a particularly permeable sponge."

"Wwell carp, Rose! If you don't like skippin' out on penmanship with Eq, then I guess I'll just hawe to…"

"That isn't at all what I meant to imply. In any case, the comparison is hardly valid. Feferi resides in this very castle, and through whatever methods it isn't terribly difficult for you to stal… seek her out. I could not see Jaspers if I wanted to." She slicks her hands across the lap of her dress, banishing dust from the shimmery lilac fabric. It is her turn to make her way towards the door, flicking her fingers over her shoulders in the barest semblance of a wave. "And if you ever use 'puff' in the place of tough again, I will personally set fire to your entire scarf collection. There comes a point where your sea puns expunge you of all dignity and cause listeners to lower faces into their hands in exasperation. It's a cod-damned shame, Eridan."

She can imagine the fish-like expression he wears as he works his jaw, sputtering and letting slip a scandalized "Wwhat?"


	2. [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter had been amended to allow for what was on my computer!

 

Eridan had taken it upon himself to at least escort her about the castle while she played truant with penmanship. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. It wasn’t as if the girl was missing much because from what he’d seen she had excellent penmanship and Equius still couldn’t hold a pen for long before it shattered under his hand. It looked like a futile practice in lightly linking curls, flowing loops, and enough suggestive inkblots to make Rorschach himself blush.

"You'd newer do that to me, wwould you? I just couldn't liwe withtrout my scarwes! I'd hawe to throww myself to Alterra if you did." He whined with a decidedly sarcastic bent, though the statement wasn't without it's inkling of truth. If he was anything, it was dramatic.

 

"I've long suspected that you were biologically bonded to your scarf collection, but this proves it. It would be the perfect murder."

 

“You knoww he’s probubbly wworkin’ himself into a frenzy right noww.”

“Having second thoughts about our agreement, Eridan?”

 

"No, no.  It's just that he's wwaitin' for you, Rose. He's grippin' his pen and swweatin' through three layers of clothin', hunched over the ink-splattered table. He thinks of you philandering with scoundrels during his lesson period and, oops, there goes another pen."

 

 

"My, my. With such a detailed decription, I could swear you've considered this before. Tell me, have you had any other fascinating thoughts involving Equius and his pens?" It was always a precarious net of psychoanalysis and doublespeak with her, always had been, and it was infectious. Kanaya had even picked up her sarcasm, but still handled it with mixed results. For a moment, he thought she’d out-witted him once again, but words found him soon enough.

 

"I don't think Skaia's economy can handle the shortage of pens, _or_ the resultant shortage of wwizard porn."

 

"I'll agree to attend my penmanship lessons for the next week if you never mention 'wizard porn' again."

“I like the tuna that.”

As they moved down the staircase, she drifted before him with perfect posture and poise. The tips of her heels swept into view from under the hem of her skirt every other step, so swiftly that he had to take long strides to keep up with her. The short hall ended and left them with what always felt like a mile of spiraling stairs to climb down. The silent pair passed under the light of low-hanging chandeliers, then into shadow and light again. He hung behind her, focusing on the back of her neck and her brooch pinned silvery-white hair, the rise and fall of her shoulders and the ridge of her shoulder blades. She’d always been petite, even willowier than Feferi and a few inches shorter. Looking down on her when she couldn’t stare back with that inscrutable violet gaze of hers filled him with nostalgia. This past week marked nearly nine years of service to the Lalonde family and the daughter of Lolar’s leader elect on his part, and he could recall their meeting first meeting with intense clarity. He was sure she could remember just as well: It had been a too-bright day under the pale blue sky, the water a prismatic cornucopia of colors, and the sand seemingly rent from pearls. The tiny girl had been pulled out into Lolar’s sea by the strong tide, and that day he earned himself and Feferi the right to act at in service of Lolar by saving her. He hadn’t even been much larger than her, or much older, but swimming was his strong suit. It wasn’t the position of naval general or supreme leader he’d dreamed of as a boy, but who was he to complain? Living in a luxurious castle really was a street urchin’s dream, and he’d grown spoiled even in the years before ascension, offered a seat at any table Lady Lalonde could sit at and acquiring a taste for rich food and fine clothes – exactly the reason why he didn’t mind the inclusion of the tailor’s daughter in their neat circle of ~~fronds~~ friends. He’d had his doubts about Kanaya in the beginning, going as far as to call her a “money-glubbing stitchwitch”, but he was reely just being protective of Rose.

“I’m enjoyin’ the alone time, Rose but this trek is krillin’ _my_ feet. I bet you can’t ewen feel yours.” Slipping the wand from his pocket he used one clean motion to lean forward and drape his lengthy cape over her, wrapping the arm with the wand around her waist. “ _Ad Luminaport_.” They were gone in a white-hot flash of science before her muffled protests could reach his ears. The pair appeared in one of the black castle’s many intersections, not far down the hall from the room Equius set up his lessons. Though he wasn’t a natural resident of said castle, he’d nested in quite thoroughly in his ‘room’, which in all honestly, consisted of several rooms he’d knocked down the walls to over time. It was easier to let him plaster the small corner of the castle with posters of majestic ‘musclebeasts’ and litter it with broken pens and bows than to attempt to dislodge him – even if he was eerily reverent of himself and Feferi. In Equius’s words, the two of them “resembled depictions of gods who were the bearers of hope and life” respectively, with Gamzee representing a third deity.

“Ahem.” It was Rose’s turn to look momentarily scandalized when he peeled away his cape. She went about collecting herself neatly, but from what he could see there was a touch of a flush that colored a path across both shoulders, dusted her collarbones, and probably swept up into her cheeks. She pushed her bangs back into place with the back of hand, but didn’t move out of place. “I was under the impression you knew to _warn_ me before doing that.”

“Shore I do. But you’re so glubbin’ cute wwhen you’re flushed.” He pulled away from her, a deft step bringing him to face her.

“Oh, don’t patronize me.” She said, slapping his hand away from her cheek when he moved to pinch it.

“Nyeh! You knoww I didn’t mean to anchor you.” He can see her briefly mouthing ‘anchor’, taking a moment to work out that particular pun. “Anger. Anchor, anger.” He clarifies, and she tips her head and furrows her brow.

“I know. That was just another ill-crafted pun I simply had to savor for a moment. Really, where _do_ you get those? You must keep a list of sea-related terms somewhere.”

“I’ll newer tell.” He teases, slipping past her and moving in the opposite direction. She could make it to Equius’s room on her own just fine, even could have handled the walk from the west tower on her own. But he tipped his head back in the direction Rose started peddling off in anyways out of some sense of duty. In waiting impatiently, he tapped the wand against the palm of his hand, sparks of science sprinkling against the worn skin of his palm. Only when he heard the last echoes of a door falling closed did he stalk off in another direction.

 

Time for a little rendezvous.

 

            Dave isn’t quite sure when he became a creature of habit. Whenever he had his way, there was not a moment of slack in his schedule. Not one misplaced moment, unplanned occurrence, no chance for the monotony of daily life here to catch up with him. Only cool function and the flow of whatever rhythm he’d chosen for the day. Possibly because when things went unplanned with his company, things seemed to descend into utter chaos. Seven years was a lot of time to work on molding three handicapped misfits in to serviceable serfs like the patient blacksmith, but any outside interference and they were nigh useless. He’d been looking forward to his lunch as prepared by Tavros: roasted dove, hearty mushroom soup, and a tall glass of warm apple juice to stave off the winter cold. It was always a small comfort, the liquid heat. It reminded him of wandering humid desert wastelands and the underground cities – what felt like entire worlds enclosed in pockets of earth, run through with metal and clockwork cogs.

 

But, lunch with John today had been a mistake.

 

Vriska had managed to run through and tip over meals-on-wheels, ruining the ironic cake he’d had baked for the occasion. Just as well since it would have gone untouched between the two of them, but there was the problem of Tavros tipped over and stammering apologies. _Apologies for getting knocked over_. Gamzee and Vriska circumnavigated the room, the wild-haired young man’s face flush with rage while he chased her out of the open kitchen galley and through the dining hall, screaming something about making her “MOTHERFUCKING pay”. While he should have been more concerned about discipline or something lame like that, he was certain dealing with Gamzee was enough of a comeuppance for this transgression. The two disappeared down a far hall, leaving the echoes of their warring voices. The whole ordeal had set Karkat off, and Terezi was doubled over, cackling at whatever sordid rant spilled from the runty red-head’s mouth. Sollux was nursing a headache in the corner, thumbing at his temples while John doted on him, rubbing his shoulders and murmuring comforting things in his ear. Dave dealt with Tavros by pulling the boy, all tense and compact muscle, into his arms and getting Terezi to set his chair upright. Once he’d settled Tavros in his chair and swept as many bits of cake as was possible to the side, he knelt in front of him.

            “I- I wish she, wasn’t so upset with me and… and I, uh, don’t know w-what I did wrong, ever, but she keeps just,” He blubbered, breaths hitching on suppressed sobs. “And I, um. Worked really, really hard on that cake, even though you told me not to, I just wanted to surprise you with, uhm, well, I know you don’t like surprises but…” Tavros looked like a child who’d just watched a precious pet get impaled by a shitty sword, lower lip quivering and tears threatening to spill over the rims of those wide golden-brown eyes.

            “Hey, chill.” He held a finger up to. “Really, don’t worry about it. She’s a huge bitch. No, the hugest bitch. She has her own orbit, comprised of slightly smaller huge bitches. Her incredible girth is unmatched. On her wedding night, they’ll have to lift her into her husband’s house via crane.” Dave ruffled the tanned and freckled boy’s mohawk, then withdrew the comforting hand toward his own face, gingerly pulling off the shades and flipping them turnways in his hands so he could slip them over Tavros’s eyes. “You’re too cool to worry about her anyways.” Tavros peered wide-eyed at him over the rim of the glasses.

            “Oh, Dave, um thanks, man. It’s really cool of you to, to, thanks again. Rufio and I, are uh, really humbled!” Since he seemed successfully stunned out of sorrow, Dave decided it would do more good for Tavros to let him.

 

He still wasn’t quite sure encouraging this second personality was a good idea, but it seemed to be helping him.


	3. [3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm working slowly on this, annnnd on my phone. For now I'm setting up for a large-scale political drama by starting small and setting up relationship dynamics, bluh. For those who were wondering, the courts of the four royal children are laid out like this: Rose has Feferi, Kanaya, and Eridan. Dave has Terezi, Tavros, and Gamzee. John has Sollux, Vriska and Karkat. Jade has Aradia, Equius, and Nepeta. A few servants teach all four of the royal children at different times.
> 
> This is still the first time I've worked on something of this scale, so I hope you all enjoy it! There may be a name change -- from Servantstuck to Skaiabound. Keep in mind, the credit for the idea goes to my amazing best friend! For occasional update progress and some artwork in the future, check my personal Tumblr: http://theyoungcynic.tumblr.com

The landscape below the obsidian spires of the east castle gave way to little more than plains of checkerboard soil once one escaped the mazelike coils of the garden. On more than one occasion he'd blasted through the walls of the maze out of impatience, the blazed path long since having been paved and fitted with archways to facilitate travel between the two castles. The jaundiced bricks of the path extended over a bridge, one situated over the fault between the two landmasses. This was one of few gaps between the swatches of land that had molded together over the year, and he glanced downward in passing to see the cerulean pitch of the sea. At this time of year they circled around his home island several times before wind currents pushed their fragment of Skaia elsewhere, and even the sight of the sea made his bones ache with nostalgia. To say he missed Lolar would be a grievous understatement, but there was no use dwelling upon it. He turned violet eyes instead upon the intricate latticework holding up the golden bridge. It was a distraction, a welcome change of color. Once he passed over to the other side there would be nothing but walls of vegetation to each side, frightening fauna resolute in their realness attribute. It was here he had the opportunity to hunt astride the noblest of steeds -- a sea-horse. A stalwart specimen of equine masculinity graced with the spiny mane of a sea creature, enough to make Equius gag on his jealousy. He had simply made this journey solo, leaving Caligula in the stables with his broodmates. The trek was turning into an uneventful one where he admired the too-blue sky and eerily close clouds. They were serene now, but when a storm hit Skaia –

 

"Oof!" He spat inelegantly as a stark-white bundle of fur barreled into his abdomen and began its assault. Eridan struggled under the dog licking at his face and battling away his glasses with an enthusiastic paw. "Oh, cods! Jade, kelp me!" Shoulders shuddering with laughter even when Bec was pulled from him and he'd plucked his glasses from the ground. Good dog, best manners. Jade loomed over him, dog in arms and tongue protruding from under her overbite in what may have been the silliest approximation of a grin he'd ever seen -- one that matched the expression her dog wore hilariously well.

 

"You didn't even worry about your cape this time!" She teased, prompting him to hastily grasp at the cape and inspect it until he was sure it was undamaged.

 

"Wwell, it's not like I don't hawe more. Don't wworry about it." He chuckled, sweeping his arms open dramatically wide. "Halibut you giwe me a hug? It's been wweeks, Jade."

 

 "It's only been a day and a half, fishface!" She chirped, bounding forward with her furry burden in tow. He puled his arms around both of them, squishing their cheeks together over Bec's head. "Haha, a family hug!"

 

"A wwhat?" Color crept up his cheeks to the tip of his ears. He worked his jaw in stunned silence before he could actually speak. "Wwhat, like we're playing house noww? Don't tease me, Jade. You knoww I like the sound of 'Prince Eridan'." She pulled back and set Bec to the side, plummeting back onto his into his embrace.

"I hope so!"

 

"Wwell wwhat's that supposed to mean?" He huffed. Nearly matching him in height, she didn't have to lean up far to press her soft lips against his, mouthes moulding togeher in a hot marriage of -- Marriage? "Wwait, are you sayin'...?" A lopsided grin spread across her face, and she pulled away to stand on the balls of her feet with his hands curled around hers.

 

"Well! We're almost at that age, and... I don't ever want this, us," she gestured around. "The hunting, and Bec, and Caligula, and...!" He quieted her with another kiss, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and lifting her up.

 

''Prince Eridan, eh?'' He chuckled, heading in the direction of the west castle's spire with girl in tow.

\------

John liked to come up to the throne room after a particularly hectic day. At the apex of one of one of the lengthiest sets of stairs he'd ever set eyes upon, the throne room was incredibly cavernous. The furthest walls of the room were set with tapestries, a visual history of the Skaian people and their wars. The last quarter of the tapestry on the left lay unfinished, unspun threads hanging toward the floor. Golden pillars parted the center of the room, a navy carpet leading to the stairs of the dais on which four thrones sat. All four were made of milky-white stone inlaid with flecks of gold, but the largest in the forefront had the highest concentration of them. It was festooned with navy and gold hangings with Skaian crests and a nice, soft cushion. He plopped right down on his favorite seat in the castle and laid his arms over the armrests -- just the right size. His eyes drifted closed and he began to drift off, first into daydreams of flying and the colors of the wind, and next into a light sleep. Soft colors danced behind his eyelids and the entire world melted away. Falling far enough into sleep to totally miss soft footsteps, only awakened by a hand papping his cheek lightly.

 

"You fell asleep in here, fuckwit. You ALWAYS fall asleep in this shitty room, in the shitty chair."

 

"Mn, I was doin' the windy thing." He slurred, wiping sleep from his eye with the back of a ruffled cuff. "This room isn't shitty, and they aren't chairs. They're thrones. Duh." When they were younger he'd feel bad since Karkat had never seen the throne room at Salamander village, but they had gone over the room and it's purpose a thousand times!

 

"It's downright FECAL in here, John. Who the fuck makes chairs out of stone?" He rapped his knuckles against the stone over John's head. "Okay, hold on. Who the fuck actually likes to sit in a chair made of stone in this drafty ass room, which is up the flight of stairs to end all stairs?"

 

"I do!" John raised his hands for effect, wiggling his toes in his loafers excitedly, as if he'd answered the question of the century.

 

"You are the height of wit, Egbert." Karkat's brow furrowed as he took a furtive glance around the room. John took a moment to sit back and hum, admiring Karkat while he worked out what to critisize next. Even in the slate gray suit and cravat he'd asked him to wear for the day's event, Karkat looked dissheveled. Deep scarlet hair refused to be tamed, a spattering of freckles across pale skin and near-black circles under his eyes, Karkat had his own odd charm. "And there are four? Where would you find four dumbasses who'd voluntarily sit in these things?"

 

"Well, lots of people would sit in them if given the chance! But, this seat can be yours if you like." He gestured to the seat to the left of him, and it pleased him to see Karkat took his seat there with minimal grumbling. "The far ones would usually be for a prince and princess, and the one next to me would be for a queen." John smiled broadly at him, leaning his chin on his hand.

 

"A queen?" Karkat scowled, crossing his arms.

 

"Haha, queen Karkat!" He exclaims and hops to his feet, pulling his crown from his head. He more or less dropped the crown into Karkat's nest of hair with a cheshire grin. Of course, the scarlet haired boy scowled up at him, a blush ghosting over his spotted cheeks.

 

"S-stupid fucking Egbert. It's not like I like... Oh, what the fuck am I even saying?" He tried to stand but John leaned forward with his hands on the armrests, trapping him in place. "No, no, not he-" John leaned closer, puckering his lips and making kissing noises. "I said fucking NO, mister 'I'm not a homosexual'. What if someone sees us?"

 

"But Karkaaaaaaaat," John whined. "Who actually comes up here? It's drafty, the stairs go on forever, and the chairs are uncomfortable! Right?" He swept an arm to the left. "Look, the tapestry isn't even finished." Karkat's right eyebrow twitched, and he bit his lip.

 

"The fuck? Was that eight fucking a's? Really?" John only looked amused, blue eyes falling closed for a scant moment while he chuckled good-naturedly.

 

"You would pay attention to that." John swooped in for a quick peck, leaving Karkat flushed -- probably in anger.

 

"You can't do that, dammit! Like I said, what if someone sees?"

 

"Well, it's not like this is Lowas." John settled back into his seat, laying his head on the back of his hand.

 

"It doesn't matter. We'll be back on Lowas before long, and you'll be King John. I'm sure you find teasing me with that title cute, but they won't. They don't even like..." There had been scandal revolving around John's choice in escorts -- His bipolar whipping boy, the orphaned daughter of a legendary criminal, and a scarlet-haired kitchen boy who'd personally ruined several royal cakes. Karkat had always been his favorite, and the two had always been partners when it came to honing his leadership skills. In fact, Nanna had delegated all Leadership lessons taken by the four royal Leadership lessons taken by the four royal children to Karkat. Most of the lessons taken were beginning to fall out of favor since they were run and maintained almost exclusively by their peers, few of whom were suited to teaching or learning.

 

"But I'm not going to be King of Lowas!"

 

"What are you going to do? Cede the crown to Casey?" Karkat rubbed at his temples. "Look, I'm sure your sister can handle the crown but what -- "

 

"I'm going to be King of Skaia, Karkat."

 

"That's crazy, and you're crazy. Absolutly batshit insane. You are the fruity fecal detrius of some adorabloodthirsty winged rat."

 

"Hah, Dave said that too, and in about as many words!"

 

"I bet, but what the hell do you mean? King of Skaia?"

 

"Skaia is going to be our kingdom now. It's as simple as that. We'll write our own accords, have our own laws. We'll live our own lives! Karkat!" John stared dreamy-eyed at the ceiling.

 

"And are we going to fight our own wars? All sixteen of us?" Karkat fumed. John shook his head slowly.

 

"We aren't going to fight any wars, Karkat." He moved to kneel in front of his partner's seat, taking the slightly smaller hands in his. "We're going to be Skaia: the great mediator."

 

Karkat stared incredulously, remembering to close his mouth after a few moments passed.

 

"Fine, John. Whatever you want, I'll help you with it."


End file.
